


Holding On to You

by seor1324333



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 18:29:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4110784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seor1324333/pseuds/seor1324333
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps it’s the wistfulness in Oikawa’s voice, or the fact that it’s two in the freaking morning and Hajime’s mind is still muddled from his stupid, shitty dream, but he feels something prickling at the edges of his eyes, and is horrified that he might actually cry.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s nice to hear your voice,” he forces out, and there’s something so terribly sentimental about that sentence, like it was made to be uttered after an immeasurable period of separation, and was created with the implication of ‘finally, it’s been so long, where have you been? I’ve missed you I’ve missed you I’ve missed you’ carved into its very characters. Hajime huffs out another laugh, and it hitches into a rasp.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding On to You

**Author's Note:**

> title inspired by twenty one pilot's song of the same name, and iwaoi week day 2's prompt: ‘Happiness is holding someone in your arms and knowing you held the whole world.’ (Orhan Pamuk)

Hajime wakes up to tears in his eyes and a scream raw in his throat. He sits up, chest heaving for air as his room comes into focus, dragging the last dregs of his mind from the void of his dream. He feels sweat sticking to his shirt, trickling down the side of his face, and as he raises a hand to wipe his forehead, he notices that it’s shaking. He lets it fall to his side.

 

He’s still breathing heavily as he grabs his phone, clicking it open to a bright screen glaring with the time. It’s just a few minutes past two, and as he unlocks his phone and brings up the messaging app, he wonders – hopes really – if a certain someone is pulling one of their infamous all nighters.

 

_[2:03] Hajime: hey_

 

Hajime leans back, resting his head on the headboard as he takes in a slow breath, his pulse no longer pounding in his ears, the spinning in his mind settled into an unfocused tremor. He tries not to think of the reason for his abrupt awakening, his eyes turning instead to the contents of his room, taking in the mess of textbooks splayed on the floor, his schoolbag spilling notes in the corner against his desk. At the foot of his bed, the curtain’s pulled back slightly, letting in just a hint of moonlight that casts pale silver light against darker shadows. Everything is calm and quiet, as it should be on a school night, but Hajime still can’t shake off the lingering dread and unease in his chest. For a split second, he’s overwhelmed with the feeling that no one else, in this house or this world really, is still alive, and that he is alone, isolated in a universe devoid of any warmth or human contact. He shivers, and this time the trembling won’t stop. ~~~~

The buzz of his phone on his lap jerks him out of his reverie, and Hajime glances down to the notification flashing on the screen.

 

 _[2:08]_   _Tooru: iwachan! u still up?_

 _[2:08]_   _Hajime: hey, yeah. you couldn’t sleep, or homework?_

He wonders if the other boy’s just up watching more volleyball matches, and is all prepared to send a scolding text back. When Oikawa doesn’t reply immediately, he opens up an app at random, hoping the game will keep his mind distracted in the meantime.

 

_[2:10] Tooru: if i tell u, ur gonna scold me :p_

Hajime smirks.

 

_[2:10] Hajime: ill let it go this time, if you promise to drop whatever it is youre doing and get the fuck to sleep you sleep deprived idiot_

His phone vibrates, sooner this time.

 

_[2:11] Tooru: its the middle of the night, and iwachan is just as bossy as ever_

_[2:11] Tooru: do u see how i suffer_

Not like he’d suffer any less operating on little to no sleep the next morning. Hajime isn’t sure if he wants to knock the other boy out himself, or continue texting so he can stay in the presence of his best friend.

 

_[2:12] Hajime: yeah yeah. poor you_

 

_[2:12] Tooru: :(_

_[2:12] Tooru: D:_

_[2:12] Tooru:_  (/ﾟДﾟ)/

 

Hajime rolls his eyes.

 

_[2:13] Tooru: anyway iwachan, wats up w/ u?_

_[2:14] Hajime:_ _nothing much_

_[2:14] Tooru: couldnt sleep?_

_[2:14] Hajime: nah. just woke up actually_

 

There’s another stall to Oikawa’s reply, so Hajime opens back up the game, losing a life just a few seconds later. He restarts it, this time only lasting a few moves longer. Hajime feels frustration building in his gut, and drops his phone on the bed in disgust. Stupid app. He’s not sure when he even got it. It was probably something Oikawa downloaded on a whim, as he obsessively played it for a day, being ridiculously good at it while ignoring Hajime’s complaints that he had his own phone to take up useless storage space for. He probably kept the game so as not to lose Oikawa’s high score, and risk the melodramatics that would likely follow. Speaking of the tech-oriented setter, what was with his slow replies? He was usually a fast typer, his long fingers tapping away at keys the moment he got a text. Hajime opens up his messages again, feeling a bit ridiculous at wanting to scroll up the chat history like a schoolgirl obsessing over a crush. What were they even talking about before he’d gone to sleep? Oh right, Oikawa had started a new anime that he wanted Hajime to watch so he could have someone to vent his reactions and feelings to. How did the other boy even have enough time to watch anime, between third-year studies and volleyball? Hajime’s so tired most days all he wants to do is take a long, hot bath, and fall asleep to the voice of his best friend.

 

He’s still scrolling when a new message appears, pulling his screen down to the latest text.

 

_[2:20] Tooru: do u wanna call?_

 

Hajime’s breath hitches. Could Oikawa tell? Was it rare enough for Hajime to text the other boy in the middle of the night that his immediate conclusion would be something that warranted a live call? Had his feigned nonchalance sounded too forced, and revealed something he wasn’t really ready to face himself?

 

_[2:21] Hajime: k_

He isn’t sure if he’s supposed to make the call first or wait for Oikawa, but it doesn’t take long for his phone to start vibrating to the flash of Tooru’s name taking up the whole screen. He picks up immediately.

 

“… Hey.”

 

“Hi Iwa-chan.” Oikawa’s voice is soft, calming, as if not wanting to startle the boy on the other end of the line. “What’s up?”

 

“Not much,” he says awkwardly, wishing he wasn’t so bad with phone calls, especially with someone he’s known most of his life.

 

“You’re not usually one to wake up in the middle of the night,” Oikawa says, his voice still gentle. Hajime huffs out a laugh.

 

“I guess not. Sorry, did I wake you?”

 

“Nope, I was already awake.”

 

“Were you watching volleyball videos again?”

 

“… Maybe.”

 

Hajime sighs, and tries not to let on just how glad he is right now for his friend’s terrible sleeping habits.

 

“Don’t blame me if you end up feeling like shit tomorrow.”

 

“It’s alright, Iwa-chan, all I have to do is annoy you and get you to chase me around a bit and I’ll feel wide awake.”

 

Hajime laughs again.

 

“Oikawa,” he says finally, hesitantly, “why did you ask to call?”

 

The other boy’s silent for a moment.

 

“You’re usually a heavy sleeper,” comes the reply at length. “I don’t remember the last time you haven’t slept through the night without waking up, not even to get up to use the washroom. And the last time you did wake up, we were in junior high and you’d just had a nightmare.”

 

Hajime isn’t sure if he’s still breathing.

 

“Y-yeah?” he lets out.

 

“Mhmm. So I was wondering if you wanted to talk about it, or if there was some other reason. Either way, it’d be nice to hear your voice.”

 

Perhaps it’s the wistfulness in Oikawa’s voice, or the fact that it’s two in the freaking morning and Hajime’s mind is still muddled from his stupid, shitty dream, but he feels something prickling at the edges of his eyes, and is horrified that he might actually cry.

 

“It’s nice to hear your voice,” he forces out, and there’s something so terribly sentimental about that sentence, like it was made to be uttered after an immeasurable period of separation, and was created with the implication of ‘ _finally, it’s been so long, where have you been? I’ve missed you I’ve missed you I’ve missed you’_ carved into its very characters. Hajime huffs out another laugh, and it hitches into a rasp.

 

“Hajime? You okay?”

 

He nods, not trusting himself to speak just yet, even though Oikawa can’t possibly see him.

 

“I’m,” he gulps, “Oikawa -”

 

“Iwa-chan, can I confess something?”

 

“What? Yeah, go on.”

 

Oikawa exhales into the receiver, and his breathing fills Hajime’s ears, his mind, his world.

 

“I’m actually just outside your driveway right now.”

 

“What?” Hajime scrambles out of bed, untangling the sheets from his legs. He reaches for the curtains, drawing them back noisily and bathing his room in clear, unfiltered moonlight.

 

Oikawa was right. He’s standing just down the path, hand in pocket, phone against his ear, as he looks up past Hajime’s window. The setter hasn’t changed out of his sleepwear, only throwing on sneakers and their school jacket to ward off the chilly spring night. He waves tentatively, looking small and forlorn, and Hajime’s heart pounds in his chest. It feels like Oikawa has just come back after a long trip, off to somewhere distant and unknowable, and Hajime has been waiting for him, here at this window, stuck in time, for all this time. He isn’t sure if he’s gone back to sleep, and this is just another nightmare, picking back up from the first. He doesn’t know whether he wants to laugh or cry.

 

“Iwa-chan?”

 

Hajime shakes himself, and lets out what he hopes sounds more like a laugh.

 

“One – one moment.”

 

He pulls back from the window, slipping through his door and tiptoeing past his parents’ room on the same landing. When he reaches the front door, Oikawa is already there, phone still in hand as he stares back at Hajime. He feels a ridiculous urge to say something confusing like ‘ _Welcome back’_  (back? back from where?), and pulls his friend in for a hug instead.

 

He feels Oikawa’s breath against his neck, his phone pressing into his back as the other boy raises his arms, fully encircling him. Hajime only presses harder, feeling the solidness and tangibility of Oikawa under his touch, breathing in the smell of soft soap in his hair and fresh detergent from his jacket. They stay like that, as Hajime rests his head on the other boy’s shoulder, for what feels like seconds, and hours, or the time it takes to dream the death of your best friend and wake up screaming.  

 

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa finally says, gently breaking the spell, but not pulling back from the embrace.

 

“Sorry,” he mutters, voice muffled against the setter’s body, his eyes squeezed shut against his slowing breathing.

 

“It’s fine, Iwa-chan. It’s alright.”

 

Hajime nods, but still doesn’t look up.

 

“Iwa-chan…”

 

He makes a muffled noise in reply.

 

“If we stay like this, won’t your parents wake up?”

 

Hajime shakes his head.

 

“They’re heavy sleepers. Most of us are, really. In fact,” and he laughs, almost bitterly, “it makes sense that you’d know something was wrong. Usually it’d take an army barging through my room to wake me up before the morning.”

 

“I know, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, amusement colouring his voice. “I’ve kicked you so many times in my sleep, and you’d just go on snoring.”

 

Hajime finally looks up, the other boy’s face so close their breaths mingle in the night air.

 

“I don’t snore,” he says, without any conviction. Oikawa rolls his eyes.

 

“Sure, sure, if you say so.”

 

“Oikawa,” he says, pulling back and standing up straight, “I don’t snore. Do I?”

 

A smile tugs on the setter’s face, and he sidles in past Hajime into the hallway. Hajime follows him, up the stairs, past closed doorways on the second floor, and back into his room. Oikawa surveys the mess on the floor but makes no comment. He heads towards the bed.

 

“Oi, at least take off your shoes,” Hajime mutters, settling down beside the other boy after pulling the door shut. Oikawa hums and complies.

 

Silence fills the room, but it’s different this time around when there’s someone to share it with. Hajime turns his head slightly to look at Oikawa, only to find that the other boy’s surveying him from the corner of his eyes.

 

“Um…”

 

Oikawa bumps his knee with his own.

 

“Iwa-chan, aren’t you going to comment on my stalkerish behavior? I was waiting outside your house at two in the morning, like some creep.”

 

Hajime huffs out a laugh, running a hand through his hair. Oikawa watches him closely, his gaze steady and intent and contrasting with the playful tone of his voice.

 

“Yeah. Who knew I was dating Miyagi’s greatest creep.”

 

Oikawa’s lips lift up into that half smile of his again. Hajime turns to face him fully.

 

“Wait, so were you really still awake or did I actually wake you up? Do you even put your phone on silence at night?”

 

Oikawa blinks, but doesn’t look away.

 

“Does it matter, Iwa-chan? Would it make any difference whether I was asleep or awake?”

 

“Nah. It’s just,” his hand returns to his hair, “it’d bother me. I don’t want to, I… I don’t want to be a bother.” He finishes quietly.

 

He jumps when Oikawa reaches over and flicks him on the forehead.

 

“Hajime,” he says, voice serious, “do you know who you sound like right now?”

 

He rubs at his head, frowning slightly. “Who do I sound like?”

 

Oikawa sits back and sighs. “ _Me_ , Iwa-chan, you sound like me. It’s like you’ve suddenly acquired all my habits and insecurities.” He raises a hand, counting down from his fingers. “Late night texting? Check. Refraining from talking about what’s really wrong? Check. Suddenly afraid that you’re being a bother to your boyfriend  _and may I add_  best friend and possible soulmate? Check check check.”

 

Hajime smiles at that.

 

“Okay, fair enough.” He reaches over to tangle his fingers in Oikawa’s lifted hand, and the setter squeezes back lightly.

 

“And you know what you usually tell me then?” He lifts their clasped hands to his lips and presses a soft kiss to the back of Hajime’s fingers.

 

“What do I tell you?” Hajime breathes, the nerves of his hand tingling at the contact. Oikawa turns his head to the side, his eyes wide and bright against the backdrop of the moonlit room.

 

“That I’m an idiot.”

 

Hajime chuckles. He leans forward to press his own kiss against Oikawa’s forehead, and the setter closes his eyes.

 

“And I’m usually right.”

 

“Mhmm. Although you never tell me I’m stupid because of my insecurities. You wouldn’t belittle my worries like that. It’s only when I try to carry my burdens on my own, acting like I have to suffer alone, that you come barging in, full Iwa-chan style.”

 

“I come  _barging_   _in_ , huh?”

 

“Mhmm. And it’s nice that you do. It’s nice knowing that if I have to suffer, at least I don’t have to bear it on my own.”

 

Hajime thinks back to his feelings earlier, to the chill of being alone in a room that no longer felt like his own, amongst shadows seemingly pulled straight out of his nightmare. The memory is vivid, but also strangely distant compared to the solid warmth of his best friend beside him, his warm hand clasped so tightly to his own. He makes a decision then and there.

 

“Oikawa,” he says quietly, “I had a dream.” He isn’t sure if he knows where to continue from that, and now his voice sounds strained and bizarre even to his own ears. “It’s weird for me to remember my dreams, and even weirder that it’d get to me so much.” He hesitates, and feels as if a part of him has removed itself from his own body. He looks up at the setter, desperate to find  _something_ to still the wetness behind his eyes. Oikawa doesn’t seem to be breathing, his whole body stilled and focused intently on Hajime. It’s unnerving really, and he has to force himself not to look away as he continues talking. ~~~~

“I’m not the kind of person who cares about these things much. I don’t think about it really. Stuff like reality, and the inevitable, about death and loss and – I just think, if it’s gonna come it’s gonna come, right? No need to worry myself sick about it now. Not when there’s so much going on. Not when I still get to live my life.”  _With you. Not when we still have so much to live for._

 

He takes in a shaking breath, and now the trembling’s back, and he won't stop, _it can't stop_. Oikawa squeezes his hand, so hard it’s almost painful. He reaches over, as if to pull him into a hug again, but Hajime shakes his head. He wipes at his eyes with the back of his free hand.

 

“I just,” he looks up at the ceiling, dark with webbed shadows struck in muted silver, away from the intensity of Oikawa’s gaze and just how  _alive_  he seems. In his current state, Hajime doesn’t think he can take just how real the setter looks, with his hair ruffled and soft, his lips parted as if drinking in Hajime’s every word, his body hard and warm and so, so close. Oikawa Tooru feels more real than anything in this world right now, and Hajime feels like if he spends too much time staring, his own flickering self might just fade away from the world entirely.

 

“I just,” he continues, eyes now closed against the torrent of his thoughts, “I never thought I could be so  _afraid_ , you know?”

 

And now the tears are falling, slipping down his cheeks to converge on his chin, gathering and gathering until his head feels weighted down with their wetness, and he lowers his face to his chest. When he opens his eyes again, his hand is still clasped in Oikawa’s, resting against his lap with the drip of his tears splattering against their skin.

 

The room is silent to his confession, and Hajime wonders if maybe this is a dream after all, and if he looks to the side there’ll be nothing but shadows and the ghost of his best friend. Maybe he had finally woken up, after spending a lifetime in a dream with a fabrication named Oikawa Tooru.

 

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says softly, and Hajime jumps, feeling rushing back into his body.

 

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says again, and his head snaps up, as if drawn to the voice itself. Oikawa’s smiling at him, small and sad, and in that moment, Hajime thinks he’s never seen him look so old.

 

“… Tooru.”

 

The boy leans towards him, resting his head against Hajime’s shoulder. The weight is there, solid and real, and Hajime lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding in.

 

“You know what I think, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa whispers, his voice small but strong.

 

“Tell me, Tooru.”

 

“I think the fears of the night, and sometimes the contents of our dreams, are just as real as anything we’d consider to be real in the daytime.”

 

Hajime suddenly finds it hard to swallow.

 

“But I also think that stuff like reality, and what is real and not, that’s something each and every one of us take part in, you know? I think we have a choice in all this, as in what we choose to be real or not. So,” and he lifts his head to find Hajime staring at him, hard and unblinking and desperate, “I know I’m not making too much sense right now, but what I’m saying is… I think the stuff in your dreams, the things that made you so scared, they’re real, yeah? Fears are there for a reason, they exist even if we pretend they don’t, especially when we pretend they don’t. But if the darkness is real, then so is this. So is you and me sitting here, in your room and on your bed, just like countless moments in our past. So is us waking up, and having breakfast together, and laughing with your parents, and them laughing at us, and going to school together, and hanging out with our friends, and playing volleyball with our teammates, playing volleyball together. What’s real to me is spending time with Takeru and ne-saan, and being with you and Mattsun and Makki and everyone else, and not just making memories with my loved ones, because memories are something that have already passed, and my moments with everyone aren’t just something to be reminisced on, like something old and dusty and boxed up in some distant attic. Maybe what I’m saying isn’t objectively true, and there  _are_  some things more real than others without us having a say in it, but for me, I can’t go living my life like that, you know? I have to live as if I have a choice in things, in what I choose to be real, or more real than others. I guess what I’m saying, is that I think sometimes real just means what matters, so as much as dreams and fears are always going to figure into our lives, they don’t have to  _matter_  as much as the moments I get to spend with you.”

 

“So,” Hajime says, his breathing loud in the stillness of the night, mixing in with Oikawa’s own heavy inhalations, like he’d just gone on a long, hard run, “are you saying our moments together are more real to you than any of your fears and doubts?”

 

“I’m saying, Hajime, that you are the whole world to me, and therefore more real and important than anything else.”

 

Hajime flushes at the sincerity in Oikawa’s voice.

 

“And I know that saying that doesn’t just take away the fear. But to me, the fact that I get to be happy with you, with someone I can hold and feel alone with against the world and not feel terrified, that’s what matters most. And that’s why being with you is more real than anything, including those fears.”

 

Hajime wonders vaguely at the ease of Oikawa’s speech, at how his intensity never wavers, only to build and grow until it’s all that’s there in their tiny, shared space. He’s eclipsing the shadows crawling in the corners of the room, his voice somehow pushing away the dizziness in Hajime’s own mind, giving him something to focus on, to ground himself with from the whispers of doubt and unreality still lingering at the edges of his thoughts.

 

“Iwa-chan, are you okay?” Oikawa asks, concern creeping into his voice. “Or did my nonsensical philosophizing finally drive you back to sleep?”

 

Hajime shakes his head, and brings the setter’s hand up to his face. He leans against their held hands, feeling flesh against flesh against flesh. He thinks he’s smiling, and hopes Oikawa can see it.

 

“Tooru, it sounds like you’ve spent a long time coming up with that speech.”

 

Oikawa huffs a laugh.

 

“You have no idea, Iwa-chan. I do do things with my nights beyond watching videos you know.”

 

“That’s news to me,” Hajime says, not entirely joking. The setter shrugs.

 

“I guess it’s always at night that these thoughts really come anyway, unbidden or not. I try not to get caught up in them because it’s hard to get away once you’ve started, you know? But still. It can be addicting. And I’ve never really had a chance to give voice to them. It’s not exactly a topic people go looking to start.”

 

Hajime lowers their hands slowly, and finds the other boy beside him, close enough to touch. Oikawa Tooru, setter and philosopher extraordinaire. Hajime grins.

 

“What are you smiling at, Iwa-chan?”

 

He shakes his head.

 

“Nothing. Just,” he hesitates, and brings his forehead against the other boy’s, “thank you.”

 

“So polite, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa breathes against him.

 

“Hmm.”

 

And they sit like that for the space of a few heartbeats, and this time the feeling of bright, solid Oikawa doesn’t threaten to overwhelm him.

 

“Iwa-chan?” he says suddenly, breaking the silence.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Can I spend the night?”

 

Hajime rolls his eyes.

 

“Yeah, of course. No way I’m making you walk back again. Are your parents even home?”

 

“’Course not. Anyway, your bed is more comfortable than mine.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

And they settle back into the soft silence.

 

“… Iwa-chan?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“… What did you dream about?”

 

Hajime doesn’t pull back.

 

“I’ll tell you about it someday,” he finally says. “I promise.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Hajime feels tiredness, the sleepy kind, creeping into his eyelids.

 

“Iwa-chan?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I think I’ve probably had the same dream as you before.”

 

Hajime sucks in a breath, and leans in further against the setter, so that their bodies are pressed close and tight, heat spread flush between them.

 

“Promise to wake me up the next time you have one?”

 

“I will. And you too?”

 

Hajime smirks. “I already did.”

 

“I know, but if it ever happens again. Promise to call, no matter what time it is or where we are?”

 

“… Yeah. Yeah I promise.”

 

“Okay. Good.”

 

When Hajime does pull back, the other boy’s blinking blearily at him, his own tiredness reflected in Oikawa’s face and the slump of his shoulders.

 

“You wanna go to sleep now?”

 

Oikawa nods, pulling his arms up into a stretch and yawning. He keeps his hand clasped to Hajime’s.

 

They lie down together, burrowing close under the blankets, wrapping themselves around the other in legs and arms and limbs. Hajime peers up at the setter’s face, only to find him looking back, half-smile tugged sleepily over his lips.

 

“How do you feel right now, Iwa-chan?” he asks, voice quiet like it had been on the phone earlier.

 

“Better.”  _Like I’m back in my body, where I belong_. “You?”

 

“I’m happy,” Oikawa says, and Hajime nods. He could say he’s happy too, warm and content.

 

“Good night then, Iwa-chan?”

 

“Good night, Tooru.”

 

And when he closes his eyes, he feels the setter pull him in tighter, his body’s warmth pushing away the rest of the world and mingling with the haziness of Hajime’s mind. He’s going to be alright, he thinks. He’s going to wake up to Oikawa beside him in his bed, and they’re going to go downstairs together, his parents surprised but still welcoming the setter for breakfast. They’re going to head off to school together, probably arriving late because they’d sleep in a bit, and they’ll go to their separate classes and take in a day’s worth of learning and studying and practice, of conversations with classmates and teammates and friends. And at the end of the day, he’s going to go over to Oikawa’s house, or they’ll come back to his, and they’ll study together, and eat, and talk, maybe even of the nightmare Hajime had tonight. And Hajime thinks he’s going to invite Oikawa to sleep over again, and maybe on the weekend he can tag along with him and Takeru and meet up with Keiko-nee-san.

 

Or, maybe they’ll spend the day holed up in one of their rooms, alone from the rest of the world, but like Oikawa had said, not terrified.

 

Yes, Hajime thinks, as his thoughts sink slowly into warmth, yes, he’d like that…

**Author's Note:**

> lmao i just wanted to write oik comforting iwa i dont know where the thousands of words came from
> 
> also apologies for waxing philosophical on y'all there in the end, its 2 am here, these things happen


End file.
